The Bravery of Gilderoy Lockhart
by RedStalkingDeath
Summary: Gilderoy Lockhart's job as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts turned out to be a little more exciting than he was expecting, or would prefer. Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 5, Finale Round 2. Chaser 3 for Montrose Magpies.


**The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 5, Finale Round 2 – Name, Place, Animal, Thing**

 **Montrose Magpies**

 **CHASER 3: G: Gilderoy Lockhart, Great Hall, Ghoul, Glass of wine**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **4\. (emotion) surprised**

 **5\. (dialogue) "What are you doing here?"**

 **7\. (word) scream**

 **Wordcount: 1079**

* * *

 **The Bravery of Gilderoy Lockhart**

It was an ordinary Friday evening. Gilderoy Lockhart was fairly exhausted after a long day of classes, in which a few of the students had been sending him dark looks for seemingly no reason at all. It was not like it was his fault they seemed incapable of dealing with the creatures he had, out of the goodness of his heart, brought for them to practice on the week before. But either way, it left him feeling a little down and off kilter.

He had settled down with a bottle of fine wine or two — gifts from one of his more enthusiastic admirers — and a stack of glorious fanmail. Reading the lovingly penned letters from his adoring fans never failed to make a mediocre day better. Far be it for him to say no thank you to a little healthy ego-stroking.

With only a few drops left of the first bottle, and halfway through a wonderfully formulated ode to his own greatness, he was interrupted by strange noises. They were not very loud, rather muted and muffled by the stone walls of the old castle, but annoyingly distracting either way. That was not to be tolerated, though. Who dared to intrude on his thoroughly enjoyable evening?

The professor was feeling particularly heroic that evening. His self-proclaimed Number One Fan must have spent quite a few galleons on the gift, as it was a far more potent brew than his usual. It was a well-hidden secret that the writer had always been able to find some of his deeply buried, and often ignored, courage after a few generous glasses of wine. In fact, he'd come up with the idea of interviewing the Wizarding World's unsung heroes and taking the credit for their deeds, and then found the courage to actually go through with it, at the bottom of a bottle.

Taking advantage of the rare urge to channel his brave and courageous persona from his world famous novels, he decided to simply leave his chambers with its cozy chair and pleasant fireplace to figure out what was going on out there. He would have to take matters into his own hands for once.

Reluctantly setting his glass of wine on the little table by his fashionable armchair, he left his comfortable position and approached the door that led out of there. Making sure his cloak was sitting correctly over his shoulders and that his hair was its usual gorgeous self — hanging a mirror on the back of the door was one of his most genius ideas, if he could say so himself — he deemed himself ready to face the world. One should never be less than presentable, especially when performing heroics.

The noises became louder and more distinct as the blond man neared the Great Hall. It sounded like someone or something was groaning and hitting the walls in there. A bead of sweat formed at his temple, and he briefly considered turning back. He was sure someone else could deal with it without his help. But no. If he went back to his chambers without ensuring an end to the distressing sounds, it would just keep intruding on his evening. He would not be able to return to the peaceful and blissful state of before.

He took a deep breath in the slight dusty air, fixed his hair one last time, and internally chanted his usual mantra — ' _I am fabulous and everybody loves me_ ' — three times, then he opened the heavy doors to the hall. In reality, it was only one of the colossal oak doors, and he struggled for almost a minute with just that, but in his head, it was the most impressively dramatic entrance you could ever imagine.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded before looking up, using the most authoritative tone of voice he could muster after his strenuous effort with the uncooperative door. The sight that greeted him when he finally got a glance of the interior of the room was enough to burst his bubble of adventure and fearlessness.

There was a huge monster standing in the middle of the room, between the students' long tables. It had long, naked limbs covered in sickly-looking, greyish skin, a positively offensive odour and massive front teeth dripping with saliva.

A ghoul.

All the facts and advice from his own books on how to deal with the creature escaped his mind completely. Why would anyone ever willingly spend more than a second in the presence of such a beast? Heroes simply could not be quite right in the head. It was not worth risking one's life for whatever meagre glory there was to be found in being a pillar of bravery and daring.

The creature must have been surprised by the unexpected intrusion of the fair-haired and brightly-clothed human as it only stared back at him dumbly.

There was nothing else to be done. The wizard's fragile courage could only withstand so much pressure. The grown-up and celebrated author turned on the spot and fled the scene with his tail between his legs like a terrified little child.

If asked, he wouldn't have been able to recall the return journey from the Great Hall to his own little sanctuary in the magnificent castle. Shaking as he was while hiding out under the bed in his chambers, he silently wished no one had witnessed his little scream of terror. It just wouldn't do to have people start questioning his obvious lack of courage. A healthy dose of fear might endear him to his readers — the adoring public did so enjoy to see small glimpses of humanity in their idols, to see them brought down to their own level for just a moment in time — but he did not think it was worth risking. He could always find other ways to appear personable. Perhaps it was time for another meet and greet? That always seemed to increase both book sales and the amount of fanmail he received per week. All in all, a win-win situation.

But, for the moment, he would just lay there very quietly, praying to Merlin and whoever else might be out there that the frightful creature hadn't followed him all the way to his chambers. And if his trousers ended up a little damp at the same time as a bird screeched right outside the window, then no one needed to find out about that.


End file.
